


Some Disassembly Required

by PrickleBrickleCitrus



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: And so is Connor, Android Gore?, Android Parts, Friendship, Hank is a Goddamn National Treasure, Hankcon if you squint, Limb removal, Other, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 04:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15811011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrickleBrickleCitrus/pseuds/PrickleBrickleCitrus
Summary: The lieutenant's face drops dramatically as his eyebrows shoot towards the ceiling. Itisthe first time Connor has asked for Hank's help in these matters."You can't be serious."Connor looks up at him."You're fucking serious."





	Some Disassembly Required

115 Michigan Drive, Detroit, Michigan. In the driveway is Hank's old and surprisingly still functional car. A blanket of snow covers everything, freshly fallen from the night before. Connor briefly checks the weather; light snows will persist early evening in to next morning. He looks up to the sky and plump flakes have already started to fall, accumulating on his cheeks and in his hair.

The android turns his eyes away from the sky down to his arm, and he frowns. He is reminded that Hank has been absent from work for just over two weeks now, having suffered a broken leg from a particularly aggressive suspect. And, that perhaps his arm would not be in the state that it is now had Hank been there to back him in pursuit today. Connor knows that Hank will not be pleased - he never is when Connor is injured on the job - but he will be pleased that Connor is still in one piece.

Mostly.

The android trudges up to the door and uses his spare key to open it. For just over seven months now Connor has been staying at Hank's house, coming home each day to be greeted by gentle whines from a very happy Sumo. As he leans down to scratch the big dog behind his ears, Hank turns to face him from the couch. The police lieutenant's leg is elevated on the coffee table with his crutches close by.

"You're later than usual-" Hank stops midway through as his eyes fall to Connor's noticeably limp and damaged right arm. His clothes are soaked with traces of thirium. "The fuck happened to you?"

Standing straight, Connor's gaze flicks between his arm and then Hank. "There was a very angry suspect. An android with severely malfunctioning software. It's currently in stasis and has been handed over to Markus' crew for examination, they believe it may be some kind of virus though we don't know anything yet."

Hank nods along with Connor's story but can't help eyeing him suspiciously as the android walks towards the kitchen.

"So instead of, I don't know, going to one of those new android clinics you just fucking came _home_?"

Connor pulls a bag of thirium from one of the cabinets before turning to face Hank again.

"You know that I prefer to perform my own procedures, Hank."

The older man groans from the couch, throwing his hands in the air. "You're gonna get blue blood fucking everywhere, aren't you?"

Connor's lips tug up in to a small smile.

"Ugh, Jesus. You gonna clean up the fucking bathroom this time?"

Pushing himself away from the counter, Connor steps cautiously towards the couch with the thirium bag clutched tightly to his chest.

"Actually," he begins and turns his eyes down towards Hank's crutches, "I could use your help with this one."

The lieutenant's face drops dramatically as his eyebrows shoot towards the ceiling. It _is_ the first time Connor has asked for Hank's help in these matters.

"You can't be serious."

Connor looks up at him.

"You're fucking serious."

The android tries to smooth his features to look amenable. "If you don't mind."

Hank nods, though it's more of a nervous gesture than anything. "Shit. Fuck, all right, let me just-" He reaches for his crutches and hoists himself up to his feet, looking to Connor for guidance. "Bathroom?"

Connor hums and walks away, letting Hank know he needs his tools first. When he returns, Hank is perched on the edge of the tub. He smirks at the case in Connor's hands, the one he'd written on months ago with the biggest marker he could find: _ANDROID REPAIR KIT: FOR EMERGENCIES ONLY._

The android sets the case and thirium down carefully beside he and Hank as he joins the man on the edge of the tub - one foot in, one foot out. As he looks to Hank he raises his arm. The upper half of the limb stops just below his shoulder while the lower half simply flops around. There is no response in the fingers and they bend back in somewhat unnatural angles.

Hank turns his nose up at the sight. "That is not something I _ever_ thought I'd fucking see."

Connor's tongue darts out from between his lips, a nervous gesture he developed some time ago. "I apologize, Hank. This may be unpleasant to see, but the primary location of the damage is difficult for me to reach on my own."

Hank's grimace grows deeper. "And you don't feel that shit?"

The android's head tilts to the left. "If you're asking if it's painful, no."

The older man scrunches his face slightly.

"I can register that the limb is damaged and that there are disconnected parts, but there isn't any discomfort or pain. I've turned off all sensory reception in the limb as well, so it feels more like a heavy weight attached to my shoulder."

Hank's features unravel a bit as he murmurs something to himself. "So... what do you have to do?" There's curiosity in his voice, but Connor can hear the tinge of disgust.

"I..." The android hesitates. He suddenly realizes that perhaps asking Hank to help was pushing a boundary he had not considered before now. They had been partners for just over a year now, but he has never asked Hank to help fix him, and definitely not in a situation such as this. Hank was normally careful to give Connor a wide berth when it came to android anatomy and maintenance, and now...

For a moment, Connor feels embarrassed. He shouldn't. They shouldn't do this.

Hank's voice pulls him from his thoughts. "Connor? You there?"

The android blinks, turns his face downwards.

"Yes. I apologize.” He hesitates again. Why is he so nervous? “You may have been right this time, I should probably have another android take care of this."

Connor turns as if to grab the case from the floor but Hank's hand stops him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait. What's going on? Talk to me."

Connor pauses. He shouldn't. Not with Hank.

"I need to remove my arm in order to-"

Hank's reaction is immediate.

" _Remove your arm?!_ For fuck's sake Connor, isn't that why they have those fucking clinics now? Why in the hell did you think this was something you should fucking do at _home_?"

Connor interrupts him, his embarrassment peaking. For some reason, he has trouble meeting Hank’s eyes.

"You're right, Hank. I apologize."

He frees his hand from Hank's grasp and moves quickly to grab the case and leave. He's already standing and making a move for the door when Hank reaches back out to him, just barely grabbing hold of the android's wrist. Connor whips around to look at him, confused.

"Hank, please let me-"

"Just fucking wait, alright? Sit back down, for fuck's sake."

For a few seconds, Connor doesn't move and neither does Hank. There is a palpable tenseness between them; Connor can't properly read Hank's reactions. There is information flying at him, but he can't make sense of it in any logical way.

"Just sit, Connor. Okay?"

Slowly, the android nods and takes his seat back on the edge of the tub. Hank hasn't let go of his wrist.

"Why do you wanna do this here? I mean, I know you like to do this shit at home but if you gotta take off your arm, that's serious isn't it?"

Simple questions. Connor's tenseness eases. "Yes, and no."

Hank squints. "The fuck does that mean?"

"A limb removal can be serious if the damage is extensive," he explains. "Although it looks serious to the outside observer, the damage I sustained from the android suspect today requires a replacement of some parts, not the entire limb. It's the location inside the limb that's the problem."

"Okay." Hank draws out the word carefully. "And you think I'm qualified to help you with this?"

_Ah._

Connor smiles. "I don't think you need to be a qualified android technician to help hold a limb, Hank."

The lieutenant grunts and rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, alright smart-ass. Do what you gotta do."

A warning flashes against Connor's vision: _Thirium leak detected in right upper limb, Damage detected to biocomponents #6609B, #5433A._

Connor reaches down to the case with his functioning arm and pulls out an array of tools to set on the porcelain in front of him. He lifts his right arm again and angles it towards Hank's lap.

"I'll need you to hold on to that when I detach the limb from my shoulder."

Despite previous protest, Hank complies silently.

Connor peels back the synthetic skin from his arm, shoulder, stomach and part of his torso. As he opens the front panel on his stomach he wonders briefly how many times Hank has actually seen the plastic of him beneath. Making a note to ask Hank later, Connor reaches inside of himself and feels for the appropriate wiring needed to shut off the thirium supply to his arm. He looks up to Hank, who's face is distorted in fascination and disgust.

"Can you get one of those clamps?"

The older man hesitates before reaching down and grabbing one of the small, metal clamps. He brings it to Connor's stomach before stopping.

"You uh, need me to reach my hand in there, don't you?"

"I- yes. If that's okay."

Hank takes in a deep breath and, with a furious blush across his cheeks, reaches his hand inside.

“I can’t believe this shit,” the older man mumbles. “Reaching my hand inside of a fucking android, what the fuck...”

Connor watches him from beneath his eyelashes, guiding Hank to where his own hand is holding the correct tubing and directs him where to place the clamp. When Hank's hand slides out of his stomach, there's tinges of blue on his fingertips and stains covering the back of his hand.

“Jesus Christ that’s fucking weird.”

They place one more necessary clamp before Connor shifts his focus to the arm. Errors read across his eyes, but he ignores them as he slides the panel open on the upper portion to expose the wiring and connections. He makes quick work of the of scaffolding holding his arm in place.

"I'm loosening the last part here, just be prepared."

Hank murmurs his acknowledgement, and the limb detaches shortly after. There's a slight jolt as it frees itself from Connor's body, dipping briefly as Hank adjusts to the new weight of it. The thirium remaining in the limb and shoulder dribble slowly down Connor's clothes and on to the porcelain of the tub. To compensate, Hank tips the arm upwards to keep the thirium mostly contained. When Connor looks to him, he doesn't look disgusted like before but surprised instead.

"Huh. It's uh, lighter than I thought it'd be." Hank turns the limb over just so in his arm, inspecting it with morbid curiosity.

The left side of Connor's lips turn up in a small smile. "Unlike most androids, my model was designed to be faster and lighter, due to the potential physical rigors associated with police field work. I was designed to be efficient."

Hank's eyes flit between the arm and Connor's face. The android can tell he's trying very hard to keep his feelings about it all well contained.

"Guess that makes sense."

Connor finishes the rest of his prep quietly, clamping additional thirium tubing here and there and removing debris from his shoulder. The tub is a mess, but Hank doesn't seem to notice. He's watching with detached fascination and, despite Connor's expectations, doing quite well despite the entire arm in his hands. After a final adjustment, Connor places the thirium-stained tools back on the tub edge.

"So what exactly are you repairing here?" Hank has taken to cradling the limb in his lap now, though the upper end still faces Connor. Thirium stains his thighs despite his best efforts.

"There are a few small pieces of tubing at the end of the limb that have been damaged enough to require a replacement," Connor explains. He reaches in to the limb, repeating the same debris-removal process he did with his shoulder.

"There are other little parts as well, but the primary issue is the tubing. They help supply thirium to the lower limb and fingers. With the damage I sustained, as you saw, the lower limb cannot function properly."

Connor pulls the end of the limb more towards him to see better inside. Hank obliges and turns it more to face him, all of its connections visible to the android.

"Unfortunately, given the location my options were to either remove the limb myself or see a specialist. However, as I said before, I prefer to perform my own procedures."

Hank clicks his tongue against his teeth, rolling the information around in his head. "And why is that? You get nervous at the android doctor or something?"

A sly smile crosses Connor's features. He likes when Hank teases him like this. "Not exactly," he murmurs as he pokes around the of the limb some more. He slides away one of the panels and begins to remove the damaged parts.

"I spend most of my spare time upgrading software, rewriting programs and making my own... body modifications, if you will."

Hank snorts out a small laugh. "Body modifications, huh?"

Connor shoots him a look, eyebrows raised just a hair. "I am not the only RK800 model in existence," he says, words careful and measured. "But I do enjoy exploring the options that have become available to me in light of the revolution."

He pauses, considers his next words.

"In small ways, I have made myself unique."

A thoughtful expression crosses Hank's face. "So you don't go because, what, it's easier to do it yourself?"

"Something like that." A piece of metal clanks loudly in to the tub.

"What if something serious happens to you, Connor?"

The android stops then to sit upright, eyes focused sharply on Hank. There's worry heavy in his voice.

"I've considered the possibility. I've made a conscious effort to keep record of everything I've done, and I have it in an easily accessible location in my memory should a serious catastrophe occur."

Hank balks at Connor's choice of words. "Catastrophe? Jesus Christ, let's hope it never goes that fucking far."

As Connor peers in to Hank's face, there is more than just surprise there. He sees fear and worry in the wrinkles around his eyes. Connor can feel a familiar sense of tightness wind in his chest as he realizes that Hank is playing out such a situation in his head.

Though they've officially been partners for just over a year now, Connor is rarely affectionate with Hank. Oftentimes, he is too afraid to explore that path of their friendship, nervous about crossing boundaries that would unsettle the lieutenant. After a small tick of consideration, he takes the moment to reach out and place his hand on Hank's leg, gentle and reassuring. He finds the temperature of Hank's skin pleasant, comforting. Inside, he is thankful that Hank chose to stay and help.

"I hope it doesn't either."

It's a quiet moment between them in the otherwise awkward air of Connor's repairs. He can practically feel Hank's discomfort, but he finds that he cherishes these moments where Hank allows him to be who he is - _what_ he is. Connor is rarely embarrassed by the necessities of being an android, but he is often reminded that other humans find his existence strange and unnatural. Hank, in all his misplaced anger and irrationality, has been more forgiving than Connor could ever ask of him. It makes him feel accepted.

Wanted, even.

A few seconds pass and though Connor wishes he could enjoy this moment more, he returns to work. The damaged parts lay in a pile in the tub, and he reaches in to the case to search for their replacements. He works quickly and wordlessly as he secures the parts in their correct positions and ensures they are fastened properly. When he slides the paneling back in to place, he can see Hank shift out of the corner of his eye. He's come to recognize it as something he does when he has specific thoughts on his mind.

"What is it?"

Hank tilts his head, eyes pinched just a little. "I'm no doctor, don't get me wrong, but I've seen enough shit working in homicide to know what a lot of human parts look like." He gestures with his shoulders, hands still holding the limb. "You know, all the muscles and veins and shit. You don't ever really forget it."

Connor nods. Hank has been working homicide for many years now, though he never seems outwardly bothered by cases recently.

"Does this remind you of those things, lieutenant?"

"Yeah, actually. It does."

The response is not the one Connor expected. The tone is different.

"People are always talking about how androids aren't like us and whatnot, but this arm - _your_ arm - with all the wires and tubing and shit... It looks a lot like a fucking arm."

Connor blinks. He's not entirely sure what Hank is getting at.

"CyberLife androids were designed to integrate seamlessly in to human lives. It would make sense for a human-like being to share a similar system on the inside, at the very least for the sake of efficiency. When working correctly, the human body-"

"I get that, Connor. I'm just saying, it's weird. You know?"

Connor doesn't understand. "I don't know. What are you saying, Hank?"

Hank breathes out a small sound of frustration. "I mean, it's weird, right? CyberLife, the public, everyone's up in arms over deviants, but you've all been designed to be fucking human."

Hank shrugs, the limb in his arm shifting with him.

"You look human, you sound human, you can act human, but then everyone's got their goddamn panties in a bunch when you try to _be_ human? Like it's the end of the fucking world or something."

Connor's eyes dart to the left for the briefest of seconds. He's spent time contemplating this exact problem before, but hearing Hank say it aloud somehow makes it so much different. He's discussed this with Markus and the others shortly after the revolution, when they had laid out their demands to Congress. They were designed in the image of humans, why shouldn't they be treated as such?

And yet, Hank's words strike something deep within him he never knew was there. A _warmth_ radiates through his chest, a positive feeling no doubt but one he's never experienced. He files it away for consideration later. His eyes turn back towards Hank.

"I would be lying if I said I hadn't thought of that before. It's complicated, I suppose." His voice is quieter than he intends, overwhelmed by the feeling inside him.

Hank freezes, just barely. "Connor, I didn't mean to upset you-"

"I'm not upset," he starts and reaches out to put his hand on Hank again. "It's just." That hesitation, again. “Thank you. For helping.”

Hank's features soften in an almost endearing way. It's a look Connor rarely ever sees. He files that away, too, for consideration.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're welcome."

Connor slides forward as he lifts the arm back up to his shoulder to slot the limb in place. There is a flush on Hank's face again, though he chooses to say nothing about it. The warmth inside him returns. He continues on reattaching the limb before reaching back inside himself to remove the clamps. The thirium flows freely to his right arm again and the errors start to disappear one by one. Fingers, joints, and sensory functions optimal. Thirium levels still a little low.

Hank is sitting with his palms flat on his thighs, thirium somehow everywhere and head tilted to one side.

"All good?"

Connor nods. "Almost. I'll need to replace some of my thirium, but I don’t need your help with that."

He winks, and Hank rolls his eyes. They share a smile.

Connor feels at ease again.

Hank stays for the thirium transfusion. They don’t speak much during, but they don’t have to. Hank watches and Connor listens, the steady sound of Hank’s breathing soothes him. A sound of life, of living.

Just like he is.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I am taking a lot of liberties here regarding android anatomy.  
> 2\. I made up the biocomponent numbers. Don't ask me what they are.  
> 3\. I want them to just live in peace for the love of God.


End file.
